


Hollow Talk

by originally



Category: Bron | Broen | The Bridge
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Pre-Canon, Yuletide 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 17:39:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2820641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/originally/pseuds/originally
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saga had spent weeks on end waiting in hospitals by now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hollow Talk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jaegecko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaegecko/gifts).



> If Saga's sister has a canonical name, I couldn't find the episode where they mentioned it.
> 
> Thanks to theoldgods for the swift beta work.
> 
> I hope this is something close to what you wanted, Jae! Happy holidays and all the best for the new year.

Saga sat on the edge of the hard, orange plastic chair and carefully watched the people who passed by. None of them were particularly interesting, but she catalogued them all the same: a mother with two screaming children; a man in a suit with a briefcase and a pager that beeped every few minutes; a white-haired doctor who kept checking his watch; a brown-skinned lady wearing a headscarf; a gaggle of young nurses who stopped to lean on the reception desk and chat whilst they filled out forms. She catalogued all the other little changes, too. There was a strong smell of disinfectant here today, stronger than usual; someone had vomited on the floor earlier and Saga had sat and watched a harried-looking man clean it up. One of the young nurses had fixed a threadbare string of tinsel to the front of the desk and there were a number of Christmas cards pinned haphazardly to the wall behind. A cassette recorder perched on the corner was playing a rotation of Christmas carols sung by a church choir. They were currently on _Härlig är jorden_ and next would come _Stilla natt._ This was the sixth time that Saga had heard the tape through; she could recite the order of the carols by heart.

A man wearing a nurse’s uniform came out of a door and looked over to where Saga was sitting. She had seen his face many times before, but she didn’t know his name. There were a lot of doctors and nurses who came to look after Lena whenever she was in the hospital.

“Saga!” the nurse said, smiling at her. “There you are. I've been looking for you.”

She watched him steadily and his smile dimmed a little at the edges.

“I bet you must be bored, sitting here,” he went on, regardless.

“Yes,” she said. She was, despite all the things to look at and people to watch. She would much rather have been at home. Saga enjoyed Christmas at home. There was order to it, a sequence of events that happened one after another each year. That was comforting. Except for when her sister was sick, and then Saga had to sit in the hospital for hours, waiting, not even allowed to be with her, surrounded by people she didn't know. Saga had spent weeks on end waiting in hospitals by now.

“Would you like to come and play with the other children?” the nurse continued, heedless of her thoughts. “We’re going to have some games and then, if you’re very lucky, a _jultomte_ might come and give you all some gifts! Wouldn’t that be nice?”

He smiled at her again and held out his hand. She looked at the hand for a few seconds and then back up at his face, bemused.

“There are no such thing as _tomtar_ ,” she told him firmly, shocked that a man as old as he would believe in goblins and fairies.

An expression of surprise passed over his features, and Saga immediately knew that she had said something wrong. She often said something wrong, although people rarely bothered to explain to her what exactly the wrong thing was. Perhaps the nurse was upset to find out that _tomtar_ weren’t real.

“Ah, Saga, you shouldn’t say that around the other children,” he said and now Saga was confused.

“Why not?” she asked. “It's the truth.”

“Saga,” he began, settling into the empty chair to her right, “that's correct, but just because things are the truth it doesn't necessarily mean that they're the right thing to say.”

“It's wrong to tell lies,” she said immediately.

He sighed. “Well… yes, it is, that's true. But not all lies are the same. There are a kind of lies that we might tell to avoid hurting someone’s feelings or spoiling something for someone else. Like it might spoil Christmas for other children if you tell them that _jultomtar_ are not real.”

Saga digested this in silence while the nurse watched her with a placid expression on his face. She understood his words, but their meaning was foreign to her. Telling the truth was good; she couldn't conceive of any situation where it would be necessary to do anything else. Why would people not want to know the truth? Saga always did.

“Okay,” she said finally, “I won't say anything to them.”

“Great!” the nurse said. “So you'll come to the little party, then?”

She clasped her hands together in her lap, shook her head. “I'd rather stay here.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. Saga thought that he didn't sound particularly disappointed. “Well… why don't we go in and see if Lena is awake now instead?”

She nodded and stood up. He placed his hand on her shoulder and steered her gently towards Lena’s room. Saga felt acutely aware of his touch the whole time.

Saga’s mother barely glanced up as they entered the room. Her sister was sleeping, and looked very small as she lay in the hospital bed with the crisp white sheets pulled up to her chin. Saga didn't like to look at her, so she took in the room instead. There were several vases filled with evergreen branches and bright white Christmas roses—her mother’s favourite. There was a blue binder at the foot of the bed with the words ‘Lena Norén’ written on it in neat capital letters. The binder was filled to bursting with sheets of paper that spilled out onto the blankets.

“Lena?” she said softly, not wanting to wake her if she was sleeping.

“Be quiet, Saga,” her mother snapped, finally looking up from her chair at the bedside. “Can't you see your sister needs her rest? She's ill and this has been a trying time for all of us.”

But Lena was awake now, and she smiled to see that Saga was there.

“Hi Saga,” she said, her usual sunny self despite the surroundings.

“Hi,” Saga said, attempting a smile back at her. “How are you feeling?”

As long as Lena was going to be okay, everything else would be too.


End file.
